My best dream
by Yuna McHill
Summary: Horace has a terrifying nightmare and turns to Enoch, the only one still awake, for comfort. A curious feeling blossoms in the older dead-riser, one he's never felt before...
1. Chapter 1

**My best dream**

Hello, fellow fanfiction writers and readers. I've finally decided to upload 'My best dream' as the first of hopefully many stories on this site.

After I've finished reading „Hollow City", I have taken a liking to the pairing of Enorace. In the movie, they barely have interaction, the main reason probably being their age difference. This little treasure helped me to capture the essence of Enorace of that fact.

I decided to make this a two-shot. If you wish, leave me a review commenting on what you liked, didn't like or if you want me to write more of it.

Enoch is 16/17 years old and Horace around 12 or 13 years in this story, but has retained his sensible personality like in the book. It takes place before the events of the movie, so Jacob will only be mentioned if at all.

And now, without further ado, enjoy 'My best dream'...

 **Chapter 1:**

Horace was lying in his bed, dreaming. Or better, envisioning yet another horrendous course of the future. His heart was racing like a crazed horse in his chest, all his muscles were tense. Sweat made his wheat-blond hair stick to his pale forehead, his throat was dry, making his breath come out in wheezes. The young syndrigast moaned in horror as scaring images flashed before his blue eyes.

Everything in him yearned to wake up at last, to cut the bonds that bound him to the realm of dreams, but his mind still held him prisoner. Then – finally – it was over... With a strangled cry, Horace lurched up like a rocket, half entangled in his sweat-soaked blankets. For minutes the boy was just sitting in his bed, trembling and breathing heavily. At last, his heartbeat lowered so much that he didn't have the impression anymore that it was beating right in his throat, trying to suffocate him.

When the hysteria finally subsided, quiet desperation filled him. The tears, weighing too heavily on his eyelashes, fell from his eyes, first one by one, then steadily trickling down his cheeks like tiny rivers. Horace tried in vain to blink them away, while his arms circled around his 'lucky pillow' and pressed it close against his chest, hoping it would calm him. A lump grew in his throat when he found that, for once, his faithful token refused to work.

His bottom lip started to tremble, his heart picking up speed again. Whimpering sounds started to escape his throat and he covered his mouth quickly with one hand, not wanting to rise the younger children from their much needed sleep. He was about to start sobbing, that much was clear. After his episode, he felt upset and afraid. Just thinking about staying alone in the dark, while another attack could overcome him at any given moment was stressful enough to make the tender-nerved boy dizzy with fear. No, he needed company. But who?

Bothering the little ones and disturbing their peaceful sleep? Definitely a no-no. They'd just get frightened and fretful, the opposite of what he needed right now.

Maybe Emma or Olive? Horace thought about it for a moment while staining the sleeve of his night-shirt with tears, but then decided against it. Interrupting a dame's beauty sleep? His mother would have screamed sacrilege. Both girls were compassionate and good listeners, but they also deserved to rest.

Miss Peregrine? She had stated clearly that he could approach her at any time of day or night, if there was anything that bothered him. His heart immediately approved of going to his ymbryne, but again his brain held him back. Guilt was added to his sombre feelings. She was doing so much for him already... She awaited him with a good meal three times a day, had relieved him of any heavy chores out of respect of his episodes, always ensured that he was happy. A little sob shook his frame. No, he couldn't burden her with such trivial things when she needed all of her powers to make sure her children got to see another beautiful day.

Horace's despair grew steadily. Was it so hard to find someone who could assist him in his need? Neither the children, nor the big girls, nor Miss Peregrine herself could help him! But that left him with only...

„Enoch...?", he half whispered, half asked himself. Enoch O'Connor of all people? Yes, Horace knew for a fact that the dead-riser had unusual sleeping habits and that he would most probably be working on his creepy creations even this late at night. A picture of him appeared before Horace's inner eye. Pale smooth skin standing out against jetblack hair, always combed back strictly. The lips almost always pulled into a scowl. Chocolate brown eyes, the little warmth they had drowned by the shadows under them, which were rivalling with the shadows in his heart...

Could he really dare to ask _Enoch_ to help him with his nightmares? All the times they were usually together consisted in the older boy either completely ignoring him or shooting him some poisonous words when he was in an especially bad mood. Granted, today he had been rather well-behaved, but would he allow Horace the shelter he craved? It wasn't that he despised the younger ones – otherwise Miss Peregrine would have kicked him out of the loop long ago –, he even assisted them sometimes, but to really try and soothe his fears?

Before he could really register what he was doing, Horace had already swung his legs out of bed. Enoch was his only chance and to at least try to knock on his door was better than sitting in the dark, sobbing his heart out with fear and loneliness. For a moment, he was standing on trembling legs, but soon he stood firm and made his way out the room into the dark corridor before him.

Normally he would have screamed in horror at the state of his night clothes and his hair, but tonight he couldn't care less that his fine silk garments were stained and creased and his blond mane, usually so carefully groomed, was sticking out in every direction. All he needed right now was a safe haven...

The carpet swallowed any sound his bare feet might have made as he jogged along the hallway towards the staircase that connected the first floor with the second, where their dormitories were situated. Knowing his fellow peculiar, Enoch was likely to be found in his work space near the kitchen. Horace gave a little shriek when his foot almost slipped on the first step, but he managed to catch himself at the last moment. Nervously he looked around, but nobody seemed to have woken up.

Finally, he stood at the bottom of the stairs without having broken his neck in the darkness. The kitchen was a few metres to the left, he could see the moon shining on the white tiles. Shivering as his feet left the carpet to make contact with the cold bare floor, he slowly walked past it and into the shadows once again. There was the storage room, the bathroom for the first floor and then he was there. Horace stood before the wooden door of Enoch's „sanctuary", as the necromancer called it. Suddenly, despair and fear resurfaced in him, emotions that he had managed to supress during his short walk around the house. With tears blinding his vision, he raised a fist to knock.

 **End of Chapter 1**

So fellows, this is the first chapter of "My best dream". Please feel free to leave a comment on this story.

Yuna


	2. Chapter 2

**My best dream**

Thank you all so much for your enthusiastic reviews and I'm so so deeply sorry for letting you wait! Between taking the National Exam, the CAE, my graduation ceremony and the birth of our kittens... All my energy and attention went everywhere except to fanfiction. I'm honestly so glad that you like my first story. Here is the second chapter of 'My best dream'. It will conclude this story.

I want to thank you so much for your patience and hope that my following stories are to your liking as well. Any ideas you want to see written? Write it into the comments and I'll try my best.

And now, without further ado, the second and last chapter of 'My best dream'.

 **Chapter 2:**

Knock, knock! Enoch raised his head in attention, his brown eyes focusing on his locked door. With an annoyed sigh, he let his newest creation sink onto his desk. Who dared to interrupt his work? Miss Peregrine knew about his habits of working and furthermore that he liked to be left alone when he did.

He glanced over at the clock on the little table next to his make-shift bed that his headmistress had allowed to install there. Enoch more often than not worked so long that he ended up falling asleep here. Although Miss Peregrine did not exactly aprove of this, that solution was better than him sleeping with his head on the table. His chocolate eyes, already accustomed to the dark, read 03:15 in the morning. Who in their right mind could possibly knock at his door at such a time? The Bird didn't seem to mind his nightly activities anymore, so who...?

The knocking continued, this time more urgent. The dead-riser growled lowly, exasperated. Why couldn't they leave him alone? His work gave him the peace of mind he sorely needed, allowed to let his emotion flow into the creatures he created and later brought to life. Another knock, didn't he hear a whimper this time? A little vein on his neck swelled in anger and he balled his fists. Whoever it was had already destroyed the atmosphere to work in. Breathing through his nostrils like a bull, he reached for the handle of the door and...

He immediately deflated like a popped balloon when he saw who dared to intrude in his sanctuary. Before him stood Horace, with a hand still in the air. With a feeling between surprise and shock, he silently took in the view. His normally well groomed hair disheveled, his entire little body shivering, bare feet on the cold wooden floor. But what disturbed him most were the tears running across his face. Drop upon drop wetting his cheeks and neck, the redness of his eyes telling Enoch how much he had already cried. Both boys silently looked at each other, one with utter distress, the other in concern and disbelief.

"Horace?", the elder muttered, his accent thickening from worry. The little one looked like he could crack any second. And crack he did. As if his voice had broken a spell between them, Horace let out a wail... and threw himself right at Enoch. With his face buried in the fabric of his grey cardigan, he finally let himself go and to the dead-riser's outright horror, started sobbing heavily.

Overhelmed by both the situation and the sudden weight on his chest, Enoch lost his balance and he fell backward. His wrists stung a little as he tried to catch himself. His mind was racing. What was Horace doing up so late at night, in such a miserable state at that? And more importantly, why was he _here_? What could have possibly driven him to seek _him_ out?

Horace seemed to grow more upset by the minute, his sobs ripping through his tender throat. Enoch in the meantime was getting scared, how was he supposed to help his young brother? He was good with handling dead things, had held his dolls in his arms like babies, talked to them. But real-life children? Hesitantly, he balanced himself on his hips to wrap his arms around Horace and, holding his breath in anticipation, started rubbing circles on his back.

The younger boy leaned into the touch, the motions seemingly helping to soothe his pains. "Please continue...", Enoch heard him sob and immediately resumed his caress. After a while, he started running his fingers through his blond hair, feeling the softness under his tips. He relaxed visibly, when the cries gradually but surely became only sobs and the tense body against him loosened up.

The necromancer swallowed and surprised himself when he felt that his throat had constricted, the corners of his eyes stung a bit and a wave of heat had centered in his chest. At first he felt confused, but then he realized that it was affection. He didn't know how he knew this; despite having never really felt this before, he just did. It was like a light at the far end of a black tunnel, a tiny whisper in the wind...

Enoch drew the young prophetic dreamer closer still and buried his face in his hair. It slightly smelled of pine needles and the residue of the perfume Horace was used to put on in the morning. "It sounds stupid and cliché, but everything's gonna be alright, Horace.", he whispered, sweeter than he had ever whispered before. Horace lifted his head from the boy's cardigan. His eyes and face were red from crying. "Do you want to tell me your dream? Maybe... speaking about it might help..."

Both boys couldn't quite believe the situation they were in yet. On one side there was Enoch, fully admiting that he could be very beasty sometimes, now holding his brother without the merest problem, no harsh words and feeling a fullness that was entirely new to him. On the other side was Horace, who was just as relieved and confused as the elder that his last hope had really become true, yet felt grateful that he had the honour of seeing Enoch's other side, the more human, tender side of him.

"Ok. Perhaps it will really help me...", he sighed, wiping his tears from his cheeks. "I was dreaming that a new boy came into our loop. His name is Jacob and he's the grandson of Abe. He can see Hollows, just like him. And then... then we were suddenly in a different location! We were in cells, everything was dark... Fiona was missing and Emma too! I heard cries. They were Miss P- Miss Peregrine's cries, she was badly hurt! And... and two demons were fighting inside the Library of Avaton, destroying everything! We're all going to die..." His last sentence ended in a broken, horrified whisper, as his emotions overwhelmed him once more and Horace started sobbing again.

Although Enoch didn't understand half of Horace's anxious rant, he felt a sting of fear prodding into his usually so stoic heart. He normally had paid little to no attention to the home classes in his old loop, but he knew that the Library of Avaton or the Library of Souls was the source of their peculiarities. If it were to be in danger, even he knew that the consequences would be disastrous...

With an icy shiver crawling down his spine, he tried to push his own fears aside and once more pressed his loop brother against his chest. He felt his body involuntarily curling around him, as if he were a wolf protecting his cubs. "Hush, that truly sounds terrifying, but we're safe right now, aren't we?", he whispered softly, "Try to live in the here and now, boy in the future. How is it called again? Direm cape?"

For once he felt grateful that the night was dark. Did he honestly just do that? Had sushed a kid to make his fears go away and offered him some philosophical advice? Was he turning into an ymbryne, for Bird's sake?! Was he starting to actually care?...

"I guess you mean Carpe diem!", Horace managed to laugh through his tears, lifting his face from Enoch's cardigan. Strange how they actually accentuated his cerulean blue eyes, made them sparkle, the dead-riser thought... As rapidly as his smile had appeared, it vanished again and Horace leaned against the necromancer, his calm steady heartbeat in his ear. "Enoch... Can I sleep with you tonight?"

Enoch's heart skipped a beat. Horace wanted WHAT with WHOM? His brain protested – What would that look like?! Millard would certainly take advantage of the situation! What if the space was too small and one of them fell and injured himself? But after looking at the blonde – with what had to be the dumbest expression he ever wore – for a good minute, he just smiled tenderly and said "Of course...".

He helped Horace to his feet and guided him to his makeshift bad, opening the covers. Horace crawled in and laid on his side, resting his head in one hand. After some hesitation, Enoch took of his cardigan and his shirt. He kicked off his shoes and laid down beside his friend. His unexpected visitor noticed his uneasiness and simply reached out to gently touch him. Horace wasn't dumb, he could figure why the older boy was so tense. "Thank you for being there for me when I needed it... Good night, Enoch.", he whispered and let his eyes fall shut.

The dark-haired teenager released a shaky breath and forced his brain to let his heart speak for once. Horace was glad for what he had done and it felt... rewarding, fulfilling in a way that not even Olive could evoke in him. Sending all of his conflicts and fears away, he admitted it. Enoch O'Connor, 17 year old dead-riser, cared for Horace Somnusson... Wiping away a tear of relief, he rolled over to his side and embraced his little brother. Not loop brother, not surrogate brother, no. Just brother. "Thank you for everything...", he whispered back, before joining him in the land of dreams.

The prophetic child woke up two more times that night, rising from a bad dream, but Enoch was always there, holding his trembling body tight and letting him cry, until Morpheus touched him again. Millard found the boys wrapped around each other in the morning.

First he decided to run to Miss Peregrine and boast around with the news, but something stopped him in his tracks... He quietly stepped in front of them and bent over. Their faces were peaceful and undisturbed in their sleep. Millard was taken aback by the almost wonderous glow and smile on the face of the normally so bitter looking necromancer. "What in Bird's name happened here last night?", the invisible boy asked internally. Then he just smiled broadly and closed the door silently behind him. He didn't have to know everything...

 **The end**

Finally! My first fanfiction is up and done! Once again, I apologize profusely for making you wait that long. If you liked the story, please feel free to leave a comment. I love you all! Yuna


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